


Reap

by MrsAlderaan



Series: The Anti-Heroes of Green Nest [3]
Category: Dungeons & Dragons - All Media Types
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-20
Updated: 2018-04-01
Packaged: 2018-11-16 15:42:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11255976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrsAlderaan/pseuds/MrsAlderaan
Summary: My group of friends did the Hoard of the Dragon Queen as one of our first campaigns together. This series is a combination of all of our stories. The first chapter of this story is a re-post of my friend, KataLagim's story "Kalinthe's Rise", which was originally posted on deviantart.





	1. Kalinthe's Rise

His thoughts drifted again into nothingness. Golden eyes, glinting in the vengeful hellfires, drifted upwards towards the black crown floating atop his head. It had been close to four centuries since the half-breed Kalinthe had ascended to the throne of the Seventh Circle of hell. Four hundred years...the thought astounded him. Kings of the Circles rarely sat for that long, the exception being Mephistopholes himself, King of the Ninth Circle and Hell itself. Kalinthe Absently felt his thoughts drifting back to his rise, as per usual for the last few hundred years. 

Surviving as a Devilkin, a mere half-breed, had been no easy task. Demons, being the arrogant creatures they are, were always known to look down on every other race, including their own. However, none were looked down upon moreso than the bastard children of out-breeding. The rare Erineyes had learned that lesson quickly as he grew. Kalinthe was a Fighter, blessed with a wicked talent for the long sword. During the war of the Fifth Circle, in his fledgling years was when his name began to take hold in Hell. All of the Devilkin and other demonic half-breeds were sent into battle as cannon fodder to distract the Fifth Circle troops as the higher ups of the Sixth and Seventh Circles spearheaded the attack on King Whorthul. It was a trap. The Sixth Circle has lost their king entirely while the Seventh’s Troops had been decimated. Kalinthe had found himself standing alone and injured, a broken long sword grasped within his hand. He couldn’t explain it, but he felt his second wind Surge through him and he took Action. It was only 5 minutes but in the heat of battle it had felt like an eternity. The speed at which his sword swung through the air, caused to blade to emit a high pitched wail. That battle had forever come to be know as the Song of the Broken Blade. 

Kalinthe shook his head, a smirk playing on his lips as his eyes gazed down at the hooded head that lay at his feet. ‘The arrogance of such creatures,’ the Demon King had thought to himself, his eyes trailing along the length of staircase that led up to his throne. A cloaked, headless body sprawled out among the steps completely unrefined and undignified. Death had come knocking at his doorstep and he had slayed the creatures without even rising from his seat. A scoff left his lips, his gaze following along down the steps more and more bodies had littered his citadel. A new journey was in order Kalinthe decided, the last four hundred years had been nothing but a mind-numbing bore. His hand shot up to cover his mouth as a cough expelled itself from him. Glaring at his hand and the blood covering it, Kalinthe’s eyes narrowed as he looked from his hand to the broken scythe blade buried in his heart. A heavy sigh left the relatively young king as his golden eyes slid closed. Seemed that he would be starting a little sooner than planned, it didn’t matter to him though. The Erineyes’ head slowly slumped to the side and the shattered blade began to eminate a pale, blue glow that slowly encompassed his entire body. As his last breath left his body, a twisted smile broke out onto Kalinthe’s face. 

“To new beginnings…” he whispered to seemingly no one, his body glowing a bright blue before disintegrating into spirit particles. 

And such began the Tales of Kalinthe, the Reaper of Souls.


	2. Death Blossom Inn

Kalinthe, The Reaper of Souls. That’s what they called him in inns and taverns up and down the coast of The Sea of Swords. He would often listen to the tales they told while nursing a strong mug of ale, shrouded in the darkest corner of the pub. He smiled secretly to himself at the yarns they spun about him, chuckling softly with each new nuance and exaggeration. Yes, he thought, soon, he would be beyond the myths and legends as a fighter of the underworld. Soon, he would become the frightful reality that they all seemed to fear- returned to the glory of his youth.

He closed his ethereal golden eyes and the sounds of that day in battle came back to him in an instant. The Song of the Broken Blade they called it; he could still feel the warm blood spattering on his body and the inspiriting resistance of flesh against the metal of his all but shattered longsword. Kalinthe could easily trace back all his past successes to that single moment in time, and he still silently thanked Myrkul for granting him the much needed second wind that brought him victory that day. Four hundred years, he held the throne in the Seventh Circle before betrayal removed him at the point of a scythe. The very scythe he now used to rend souls in the material plane today, only thirty years later.

With one final shout, the trapper ended his story, startling some of the nearby tavern goers into sloshing their overladen drinks on the abused wooden floor. With a baleful shake of his head, the disguised Devilkin took one last quaff of the amber liquid in his glass, placing it and two shining silver pieces on the counter before him. He signaled his exit to the barkeep without a word.

As he edged around the once animated speaker, Kalinthe’s shoulder grazed the other man’s many furs causing the trapper to involuntarily growl in rage. Turning to confront the fool who dared mess with the likes of Chase Deerstalker, the unsuspecting human’s eyes widened in shock and fear as silence fell over the alehouse. Silently, Kalinthe pulled the black hood back over the impish horns on the apex of his forehead, but the damage had already been done. “Nothing to look at here.” He murmured calmly to the unsettled crowd.

“Yer him! Aren’t ye? Da one they call Reaper…” Deerstalker gaped. Kalinthe’s only reply was but a single nod, almost imperceptible to the inebriated hunter. “Wha’er ye here fer, whelp? Dis town’s not the type ta go lookin’ fer trouble, ye hear?”

“Good thing I’ve already found what I’m looking for.” Kalinthe leveled his eyes on the man as he moved his scythe arm swiftly and confidently through the brawn of the mountaineer’s neck… As the man’s thick neck fell to the ground with a slick wet sound followed by a thunk, Kalinthe zeroed in on another source, a sort of shimmering from within the body. Upon death, most souls practically jumped out of the body. This one was a bit slower to rise than normal, but that was no problem since a few of the fighters in the tavern were drawing up arms.

A few of the onlookers were shouting obscenities at him, leering and judging as the living were wont to do, but he ignored it all in favor of sizing up his new opponents- three in all. First, there was another tanned and rugged human; this one looked stronger than the last with a battle torn longsword and no armor. He seemed enraged beyond speech. The next was a tall and fair skinned elf; she stood tall and held a hand crossbow in her left hand. Kalinthe briefly debated whether that was her off hand or not. Kalinthe mentally shrugged. She was the least of his worries by the looks of the hawk perched menacingly on her shoulder. The last defender could hardly be called a challenge at all in the eyes of the Soul Reaper. He was a male child a little more than ten- hardly yet a man, and, yet he stood to fight. Kalinthe let out a sigh. He did not bask in the deaths of the young often favoring the nuance of a more aged soul, but, if the boy were to stand in his way, then Kalinthe would do what he must.

Only a heartbeat passed before the human ran in, swinging for all he was worth, but Kalinthe had the advantage. Although this body was young, he’d once had a deathly affinity for the longsword. He would not allow such a weapon to damage him in this life. Thus, as the brute dashed in, Kalinthe easily countered, a smirk pulling at the edges of his lips.

After the initial swing missed, Kalinthe’s mouth grew into a full-blown smile as he used the opening that the barbarian had created to deal a swift and decisive blow to the man’s leading arm. Again, blood began dripping to the battered wooden floor, permanently staining it a rouge color. Over time, the tavern goers of the realm would hear the story of the fight and begin to call those stains Death’s Blossoms, and, of course, the Inn Keeper couldn’t possibly part with such historical flooring; it didn’t matter that he had no intention of replacing them in the first place.

The goliath-like figure of the swordsman seemed momentarily stunned, so Kalinthe next turned his attention to the elf, who’d finally jumped into action. The crossbow had slung a bolt in his direction, but, even more importantly, there was an eagle with very sharp talons making a beeline for his eyes. Kalinthe didn’t have the speed to dodge out of the way of either attack, and he suffered a moment of utter panic as he struggled to decide what to do to keep his very much mortal body, well, alive.

Just at that moment where he’d thought all hope was lost, the child stepped in. Well, he strolled really. There’s no other word for the sheer nonchalance that Kalinthe witnessed. The boy lowered his hood and dislodged a hand from the overly long sleeve of his robe. Then, all Kalinthe could see was fire.

Being a devilkin, Kalinthe had a hellish resistance to the flames of earth; thus, the thick tongues of flame that encased him didn’t affect him as they would the other fighters. Regaining his bearings, Kalinthe stepped out of the orb of smoldering flame, looking directly at the young man whom had, saved him from what would have otherwise become a gory fight. Sensing the nearness of four enticingly shimmering souls, Kalinthe feasted with little regard for the reactions of the living onlookers in the now ramshackle tavern.

Once finished, he turned and sized up the boy. “You’re not entirely what you seem.” Kalinthe whispered enigmatically as the youth summoned a fiery blade from nothing and began slicing through the undamaged arm of the elf who’d been so far from the worst of the blast.

“Aye, and you’re the one all the travelers talk about.” He mumbled lowly, as if unused to the sound of his own voice.

Kalinthe nodded, although the child wasn’t looking- so fully engrossed with his sickening task, he was. “Indeed.”

With a flop, elf’s body fell to the ground as the blade sunk its way through the last sinews of bicep muscle. “Seems like you could use a comrade for a time. These earthly bodies are so fragile, you see. You can’t just let anything happen to them.”

“Perhaps.” Kalinthe hedged. “But, I have just one question.” When his companion did not answer, Kalinthe pressed on, pointing at the dismembered limb that threatened to drag on the floor. “What is that for?”

The boy looked at Kalinthe fully now and smiled, giving the soul reaper a close look at the somewhat stretched and decaying flesh all over the pre-teen’s body. Where bluish veins should’ve been, red streaks shone in web-like designs, and, when the boy smiled, Kalinthe knew immediately what diet the child preferred. If he hadn’t been desensitized to such a thing long before this moment, the former ruler of the seventh circle would have found himself retching on the floor. Instead, he looked his new companion in the eyes with no fear as the boy spoke. “Just consider this take out. Nice to meet you. The name’s Xanth, by the way.”

“Kalinthe.” The dark robed devilkin answered in the guttural speech of the Infernal. “Let’s go see if we can’t find our next meal.”

With that, the two left the alehouse, still smoldering and with nothing but a bloody floor and the stories of the scant surviving witnesses behind.


	3. Will of the Gods

Kalinthe watched in disgust as Xanth gnawed on the desecrated remains of an unfortunate noble whom he’d bumped into yesterday along with another warlock friend of his. The soul reaper found himself glad that he’d been otherwise occupied during that particular epoch, realizing that watching his comrade rend flesh from bone would have elicited further reaction than a simple sneer from himself. Once the child had finished savaging his meal, he dropped the remaining bones into the smoldering fire, whispering a brief prayer to Myrkul, Lord of Bones, under his breath as he did so.

“So, you’ll break that vow of silence for our god, but you won’t break it for your own companion?” Kalinthe asked his eerily quiet cohort, trying to summon the energy to banish the clear frustration in his voice.

Xanth glanced up from the charred bones crackling in the fire to consider the golden eyes which were glued to him. “We’ve travelled for a fortnight and have nothing to show for it, my liege. Now, tell me, what is your goal, if not to follow our orders?”

Kalinthe growled at the mocking pet name Xanth used for him. “Do not mock me, child. You are too young to have been one of my followers.” He leaned back in his place at the campfire and stretched out his black feathered wing muscles. He leaned his head back to look at the stars enigmatically before he responded in a soft whisper. “It’s been many years since I’ve had to blindly follow orders, Xanth. Are you really not the least bit concerned that our dark and great god wishes for another god to have followers? What is the end game in this mission? What is in it for Myrkul if the girl chooses the destructive power of the storm?”

“Myrkul has ordered us to find this one, to convert her to the side of Talos.” Xanth yawned lazily, his bloodied, gnarled teeth catching the light of the moon oddly before he closed his gaping maw again. “Honestly, she sounds like a real piece of work if she thinks that she can keep herself from this path, chosen by the gods for her to follow. Does it not seem naïve to you that one with such presumed power would fight against it?”

Kalinthe’s eyes swept over the snarl-like smile of the Lost Man child sitting before him. “I fear that we will always see our orders differently, my friend.” Kalinthe groused, standing up from his perch and stepping away from the embers of the fire. “Come, let us rest for the night.”

Xanth mimicked his elder’s movements, brushing his dirtied hands against his pant legs to clean them off before reaching into his personal pocket dimension and removing a haggard looking scroll. He unfurled it, but, before he began to read from it, he looked up at the much taller man. “For what it’s worth, as far as I’m concerned, I don’t think that it’s our job to question our Lord’s intentions. It’s our job to follow orders and hope he is pleased by our actions.”

With that, Xanth began reading from the scroll in a quiet voice. As he did so, a fiery wall began to form and wrap around them, a swirling vortex of flame in the otherwise calm wilderness. However, contrary to the licks of flame, nothing caught fire. Instead, the flames continued to wrap up and around them, protecting them from the outside world. Although this was far from the first time Kalinthe had seen the spell cast, once again, he was reminded of the way Myrkul transported himself between realms.

Not a moment later, Xanth finished speaking, and the two were wrapped in the protection of a tiny hut, safely away from the dangers of the outside world. Yet, Kalinthe couldn’t find the rest he so desired this night, even as he watched the young warlock settle into a deep unconsciousness on the other side of the space. Kalinthe looked around the shelter and through the transparent flames to find a green, glinting light in the dark night. This piqued the soul reaper’s interest, and, without his conscious permission, he was leaving the security of the burning forcefield. His stride was sure and his steps were quiet when he came upon the owner of the ominous light he’d seen in the night.

A tall slender being stood in the darkness, shrouded in an ethereal yet impenetrable darkness. Its clothes were dark, and Kalinthe knew that, if he were to look at its face closely, he would see a human-looking skull instead of skin. _I did not bring you to this plane for your benefit, but my own, Lord Kalinthe of the Seventh Circle._ The voice spoke directly into Kalinthe’s mind rather than aloud. The sound it made was rasping and breathy sounding, even in his own head. When he’d first encountered Myrkul in this life, he’d asked why they couldn’t speak face to face like men, and the devilkin had been disappointed to learn that mortals could not survive direct contact with the divinity of gods.

“My apologies, my Lord. I know it is not my place to question your motives…” Kalinthe responded in turn, lowering himself to a knee and prostrating before the god of the dead.

_Yet, you question me still. Do not make yourself into more trouble than you are worth, Reaper. Remember, I can take away this gift of life as easily as I gave it._ Myrkul idly threatened, gesturing his skeletal hand as if to grab Kalinthe.

Having expected as much, Kalinthe did not flinch away from the hand of death, merely allowing a scowl to grace his features. “Understood. We will continue South at first light. If she travels The Trade Way, surely…”

_You will find her, Reaper, and you will not fail me so long as you value your continued existence._ Myrkul’s voice shuddered with finality before green flame wrapped around his body and he blinked from this plane of existence. Suddenly feeling exhausted, Kalinthe moved back into the magical forcefield accommodations Xanth had spawned earlier before letting unconsciousness take him.

* * *

When the odd pair awoke in the morning, it became clear to Kalinthe that Xanth was back to his voluntary silence. With a resigned sigh, Kalinthe swiftly packed up their camp before steering them back towards The Trade Way. When they reached the heavily traversed earthen path, they moved South in the direction of the city of Mosstone. The ancestral home of the Nescerei resided somewhere above The Shining Sea in the Mihair Archipelago. Their quarry had left the city Urbem Aeris nearly two moon cycles ago- more than enough time to reach the mainland.

With a new determination, Kalinthe pushed his diminutive companion to walk at a fast pace for the morning, only slowing when he could see the distant towers of Mosstone above the pointed peaks of the pine trees. Kalinthe decided that they would sleep comfortably at an inn within the city this night. As they continued South, Kalinthe noticed that the trees began to become dryer and the terrain less fertile. A frown fell upon his lips while he pondered the ramifications. Myrkul had ordered them to convert the Sky Elf, but he hadn’t explained the dire consequences of inaction or failure. These lands were normally tormented by a nearly constant stream of rain. Now, without the Aurai of the West to command the weather, this city was transforming into an infertile desert not unlike the lands below the Starspire Mountains.

Xanth glanced at him, looking like he wanted to say something, but, before he could speak, Kalinthe was knocked back as a body ran into him. Automatically, Kalinthe’s arms moved to catch the person, and, when he looked down at her, it was as if the world froze in place.

Realization hit at the same instant that he took in her features. Her skin was the palest smoky white, it was so light that he could almost see through it, and her eyes nearly glowed with an otherworldly blue color that sluggishly swirled as they gazed back at his own features. Her hair was stark white and pulled back into an elaborate braid that ended at the small of her back, and her clothing, although clearly manmade, had taken on a wispy and unearthly quality to it. Kalinthe had never met a Sky Elf before, but there was no doubt in his mind that he’d just bumped into one; this must be Nebula- Talos’s next chosen Aurai.

“My apologies.” She stuttered, her voice an airy whisper- weak from disuse. “I should have been paying closer attention.”

Kalinthe fought the urge to grab the woman tighter- to keep her from running. This would only be more difficult if he scared her. “Please don’t apologize. We are both at fault here. Are you okay, miss?” He finally asked after a long pause as he began to process his good fortune.

She stepped back, out of his grasp, pushing a loose lock of hair behind a pointed elven ear and pursed her lips, obviously trying to decide how to respond. When she spoke again, her voice was a bit stronger, but it still held that breathy quality to it- as if the wind itself was speaking through the woman. “Yes, I am, thank you. Now, I must keep moving, if you’ll excuse me.”

She sidestepped and pushed forward, grazing his side as she moved on. The single brush of her skin brought a chillingly cold sensation to his own, which made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. In that instant, he knew why Talos wanted her power on his side. The woman marched North, paying no heed to the two travelers who were now so conspicuously following her. The Nescerei were a social people, living in large cities in the sky and only travelling with large groups of their own kind. The utterly charming people very rarely existed on their own, and Kalinthe found himself intrigued by her ability to venture out in an unknown land. He was fleetingly reminded of his first few days of confusion traversing the lands of the Forgotten Realms with naught but instinct and his ability to sense souls to guide him. She must feel very much the same- yet she could move with a grace and surety he knew not in those, his early days of mortality.

Eventually, the sun lowered itself in the sky, and the woman slowed her pace to that of a leisurely stroll as her eyes searched the horizon for something he could only guess at. “When you first began to follow me, I thought for sure that you meant to bring me trouble, but you haven’t acted on any malevolent intensions this day. Come, rest, and let us speak.” She commanded easily as a cold breeze drifted on the wind. In that moment, Kalinthe could have sworn that she’d summoned it herself, but he didn’t sense any familiar magics being used in the area.

The ragtag group quietly stepped from The Trade Way and into the woods beside it. No more than twenty paces from the road, a small clearing was nestled in a copse of trees- part of The Wealdath Forest. The remains of a small campfire and some pell-mell seating indicated the use of this area on the trade route. “How did you know this was here?” Kalinthe queried uneasily.

She turned back to look at him, eyes wide in bewilderment. Her eyebrows drew close together and she pursed her lips before she spoke again, shrugging as she did so. “I could just tell. There’s something special about this place, like the wind tries to avoid it.” With that, she found a log to sit on, already rummaging through her pack for rations. Xanth and Kalinthe only paused for a moment before following suit. “If you both are to become my shadows, it would be best if I were to know your names.”

Kalinthe hesitated, choosing his words carefully. “Forgive us. I’m Kalinthe and this is Xanth. We were following because…”

“A lady as fair as you walking so far alone… We were concerned.” Xanth interrupted the soul reaper’s explanation smoothly. From the corner of his eye, Kalinthe could see the warlock gesturing his right hand, and a small drop of blood fell to the ground. Kalinthe would recognize this spell from a mile away- a suggestion spell, and a powerful one, at that.

For a moment, the Sky Elf looked as if she would protest, but, instead, her eyes became dull and dazed with the power of the spell. She wobbled from side to side as if hypnotized by Xanth’s words. Her mouth opened and closed like a fish before finally forming words. “My name is Nebula. Pleased to meet you.”

Kalinthe rolled his eyes at the warlock. They’d had the opportunity to try and naturally force the woman into their way of thinking, but, instead, he’d magically cajoled her. It would only be a matter of time now before she broke free of the deception. “What did you do that for?” Kalinthe griped. “Do you not see the opportunity we just had to manipulate her?”

Xanth smiled darkly, a green glow overtaking the usual red hue of the Lost Man’s eyes. “Do you not see that I am not Xanth? Now, you can just sit there and watch, Reaper.”

Defiantly, Kalinthe attempted to move, but his body wouldn’t obey. His eyes grew wide as he realized that the warlock had cast the spell on both himself and the helplessly befuddled Nebula. He glared on, hoping for something to come to mind. He wished to follow the orders of Myrkul, if only to save his own skin, but he would complete this mission his way.

“Now, Nebula, my dear. Wouldn’t you love to serve Talos? It’s time for you to choose to join the house of Aurai.” Xanth’s smile was wide and sadistic as he glowered at the Sky Elf.

“N-n..” Nebula grunted in a vain attempt to break free of the confines of the spell before standing up weakly. Tears fell from her eyes even as they began to glow brighter and wind began to spin around her before she lifted from the ground. “I, Nebula, surrender myself to the House of Aurai, and the power of Lord Talos.”

As Nebula spoke the ritualistic words, clouds began to form in the sky and the winds picked up around them, creating a howling sound among the surrounding trees. Lightning crackled in the sky and a chill began to come over the area. Kalinthe watched in horror as she moved her lips, but no words came from them. Instead, he heard a voice in his mind, and, from the look on Xanth’s face, he could hear it too. _Well done, priests of Myrkul._ The voice was strong and powerful, the very antithesis of Myrkul’s scratchy tones; however, with each word, the storm around them grew larger and more deadly. _Tell your master that his end of the bargain is complete. Mine will be fulfilled in due course._

With those final words, Nebula’s mouth snapped shut, and she was struck by a bolt of lightning before she fell to the ground with a resounding thunk. However, the surrounding storm did not die when her eyes closed and she fell into unconsciousness. The wind continued to howl and moan as the pines bowed wildly to and fro. The lightning came in a near constant stream of light and color occasionally striking a nearby tree. Kalinthe attempted once again to move and found success now that his order had been fulfilled. He fought to stand in the storm, tucking his wings close to his body to keep them from catching in the gale force winds. Fighting his way to the Nescerei’s comatose body, Kalinthe idly wondered how she managed to remain unmoved in the deluge around them.

Xanth finally snapped to, a deep frown gracing his usually cherubic childish features. His movements were slow and measured as he reached into the hellish dimension where he stored his wares, but, soon after removing the old, tattered scroll, the calculation behind each movement was forgotten.

Minutes that could have been hours later, Kalinthe and Xanth panted from within the magical forcefield. “What the hell happened out there, Xanth? That was not part of the plan.”

“I was fucking possessed, Reaper! What do you think happened?” The warlock grunted back, coughing violently as if trying to clear his throat.

As the boy hacked, Nebula groaned as she came to. Her eyes were bleary and unfocused until she closed her eyes and grabbed her head in agony, letting out a thunderous shriek which caused an actual bolt of lightning to pierce the night’s sky. With that, tears began to stream down her face, resulting in a downpour of rain that harmlessly slid down the forcefield of the hut. “Wh-what did you do? What happened to me?” She begged, a chill taking over the dimly lit space.

Kalinthe looked at Xanth, hoping the warlock had an idea of what to say. The boy shook his head tiredly before laying down beside the Sky Elf. “Something bigger than all of us, for now. Try to get some rest and we’ll regroup in the morning.”


	4. Don't Call Us Heroes

Kalinthe was positive that he would be sent back to hell in order to experience his final death this night. He looked from face to face at each of his strangely acquired comrades (Xanth, Nebula, Ellie, Zephyr, Boar, Malek, and Ramasha), and shook his head at the ridiculousness of the situation he’d found himself in. Xanth and himself met along the Sword Coast in a tavern that they’d otherwise destroyed. Nebula joined them a fortnight after that in a nightmarish fashion which left him questioning his own faith after his god, Myrkul, possessed his warlock friend, immobilized Kalinthe himself, and forced the Sky Elf to make a vow for the god Talos in direct contradiction to her moral beliefs.

Next, they’d met Ellingsithurtal, also known as Ellie, and Zephyr. Frankly, the pair of them even creeped out the unflappable soul reaper to a certain extent. The woman, Ellie, he decided, must’ve been influenced by the incubus, Zephyr, for quite some time to account for the severe personality disorder she seemed to be possessed by. Ellie seemed to have been an entertainer wherever she came from before because, whenever she was left to her own devices, she seemed to choose to dance or create light shows out of the fire element she favored.

Oddly enough, Ellie and Zephyr were the first responders to the absolute mess that was Nebula’s forcible joining of the house of Aurai. Should this be sheer happenstance or divine intervention yet again, Kalinthe wasn’t certain, but, either way, he appreciated the aid despite the uncomfortable feeling it gave his loins to be around the indescribable charm of the incubus.

Kalinthe exited the tiny hut created of magical force the next morning in order to check on the weather situation. Peering into the nearby destroyed area, the first thing he’d laid his eyes on were the unconscious and naked forms of the strange pair who’d clearly found a certain frenzied pleasure in the throes of the uncontrollable storm. Slowly and calculatingly, Kalinthe moved forward, removing his scythe from its place on his back. He placed the blade firmly against neck of the resting incubus. “Rise.” He commanded, and the fiend opened its eyes with a start.

Slowly, the pale skinned incubus pushed himself into a sitting position, stretching his red bat-like wings in the process. “Hello.” The devilish being mewled, forcing the reaper to fight off a sudden rush of wanton lust brought on by the mere voice of the lecherous incubi.

“Until I allow it, you are only to nod and shake your head. Otherwise, you will find it removed from your shoulders.” Kalinthe growled threateningly at the other male. “Understood?”

The winged beast nodded, his lips pulling into a lascivious smirk, eyes smoldering in the direction of the former King. “Did you come here in response to the disturbance last night?”

With a nod, the still-naked incubus nodded, leaning back to prop himself up in such a way to accent his… package. “Is the woman here with you willingly?” Another nod. “Is she under your influence?”

The incubus didn’t so much a blink. “I’ll take that as a yes.” Kalinthe grumbled. “Alright. Now, if you even think about charming me, I will run my blade through you so quickly that you’ll feel it even in the afterlife. Got it? What’s your name?

The incubus poked out his bottom lip, but, when he spoke this time, Kalinthe didn’t feel the insatiable need to fornicate. This was already an improvement upon the past five minutes. Finally, the other man opened his mouth and spoke again, this time in a much more casual tone than before. “You can call me Zephyr.” He answered shortly.

“Kalinthe.” The reaper replied with a firm tone. “Look, our group was kind of in the middle of some sort of godly territory battle last night… We’re not looking for trouble.”

“And, yet, here you are…” Zephyr replied with a raised eyebrow. “Look, I’ll be straight with you. I can tell that you know what I am, and I’ll just say that I have certain... needs. Needs which need to be quenched on a regular basis, otherwise, I die. This woman is oddly combative to my machinations, and I find myself intrigued enough to allow her certain freedoms that I wouldn’t otherwise find amusing. Yesterday, she became very much fixated on the source of that storm, and I’m inclined to allow her to choose our course from here. Now, tell me, if I agree to allow you amnesty from my… whiles… will you allow us to join your group until our paths diverge once again?”

“Aye.” Kalinthe muttered, finally lowering his scythe to a comfortable position, allowing his muscles to relax once again. “I trust you’ll strike some other deal with the others as well. I doubt very much that either of them would be interested.”

Just as Kalinthe finished speaking, the shelter spell collapsed in on itself, revealing the two occupants within. Zephyr craned his neck for a better look at the mystery behind the fiery dome, gazing in vested interest, hoping for his next sordid meal. “Ah- a sky elf. Don’t mind if I do.” He muttered, his tongue flicking across his lips hungrily.

Kalinthe turned his golden eyes back towards his companions before lowering his gaze back towards the incubus. “I’ve changed my mind. Hands off those two.”

Kalinthe shook his head, dragging himself back to reality. His heart was pounding in his chest, and his breaths were near pants. He’d been awake for nearly a full day now, and he was preparing for battle against the blue scourge of Greennest. With a stretch of his neck, Kalinthe turned to look at the larger than life humanoid badger named Boar who was manning the second ballistae. Besides him, he was the strongest of their group, and, as a blacksmith, knew the workings of the oversized defense weapon the best. The last remaining guard detail of Greennest along with their ragtag group huddled together briefly before the dragon flew over to strike again.

“This will definitely be going in the book of Ramasha.” Their mildly insane companion cackled before scribbling indiscernible markings into a tattered and worn notebook. Kalinthe sometimes wondered if she was even literate. He was for certain the woman had never sold a single copy of the tome.

“Get all the bolts up from inside the keep as quick as possible. We’ll need as many shots as we can get.” Boar shouted from his seated position at the ballistae.

“Keep away from its mouth. Blue dragons can breathe lightning. Also, try to keep from being in a straight line. If one of us should fall to its breath, we will fight on, but, if all of us are struck, we will fail this town.” The leader of the town’s guard cried to the group with a passion that brought a fire into the hearts of the other fighters. Finally, he drew back, beginning to move towards his post before speaking in a whisper heard by the entire group. “Battle stations.”

* * *

Nebula was still shaking, her body riding a high from little rest and adrenaline. I just rode a dragon. She thought before the shock set in, knocking her out cold.

In the moment, jumping onto the blue dragon’s back seemed like the only course of action. When the blue dragon, otherwise known as Lenathon, had returned for another pass at Greennest, the first attack he made instantly electrocuted five of the town’s guards, including the Captain. In that instant, the battle fell into complete chaos.

The few remaining guards were ordered to bring the ballistae ammo to the top of the keep, but the ammunition was heavy and a person can only walk so quickly while so heavily encumbered. Meanwhile, Boar and Kalinthe fought to use the heavy, mounted weapons at all, so improficient they were with such weaponry. When, finally, Kalinthe managed to nail a direct hit into the dragon’s left flank, Nebula briefly hoped that the pain alone could scare the blue beast off.

However, Lenathon must’ve been able to tell that their ragtag group was on its last legs because, rather than turning to leave, he reared back his gaping maw, preparing to breathe his deadly lightning once again. The persistent onslaught coming from the dragon drove them to make a fatal mistake, accidentally forgetting not to line themselves up in a straight line. Before the dragon could breathe the deadly tendrils of lightning, though, Nebula sprung into hasty action, barely sparing a moment of thought before she ran forward. Springing from the safety of the keep into the air.

For the briefest of moments while the Nescerei was airborne, she saw how she would die, falling from the sky in a bluish haze of dragonfire. But, for the Aurai of the West, the intent of her flight was enough to allow her to rise just high enough in the air to land on the dragon. Drawing her dagger, Nebula dug the weapon into the hard, scaled hide of Lenathon’s flank. If it wasn’t for that simple dagger, Nebula’s descent would have sent her to the earth below.

Nebula struggled to climb further up the dragon’s body, stopping at the juncture of its wings where she could manage a tenuous grip onto the huge creature. Meanwhile, the blue menace attempted to buck and throw the Sky Elf off his back. Nebula struggled to grasp and climb further up the dragon’s body, but failed to do so. Unfortunately, she found, from here she could go no further. Perhaps, she could still harass Lenathon from her perch here.

Before she could bring that thought to fruition, she saw Zephyr using his flightless wings for gliding to swoop at the dragon. Gritting her teeth and closing her eyes, Nebula prayed for the fortitude to grip tighter as the monstrous beast twisted its body into a barrel roll to avoid the attacks from the oncoming incubus.

While Nebula fell, she heard the laughter of her heartless patron, Talos, in her mind’s eye. Great. She thought in a moment of clarity amongst the panicked screams. Now, the bastard laughs at me. Of course, he’d find this funny. Nebula had just seconds to think, barely reacting fast enough to use her travelling cloak as a makeshift parachute to slow her movement.

The next thing she remembered, Nebula was in pain, waking up from unconsciousness.


	5. Cyanwrath's Challenge

To Xanth, Langdedrosa Cyanwrath was but another obstacle in his ascent to power. It hadn’t even been 5 minutes after their fight against the dragon, Lenathon, ended before this pompous, over-stuffed half dragon appeared with a challenge; fight him fair and square and he agreed to leave peaceably, but, if anybody should attempt to interfere, they would be put down along with the fighter. Now, Xanth wasn’t against cheap tricks, maiming, or even killing, and Xanth WAS NOT scared by any stretch of the imagination. However, he knew that, given the current beaten and battered state of his body, he couldn’t win this fight. Although Xanth hadn’t taken the brunt of the damage during the fight against the blue dragon earlier, he didn’t leave the battle unscathed. Thus, when the boorish badgerlord, Boar, offered to fight against the half dragon Xanth didn’t bother trying to stop him, deciding that, at the first opportunity, he’d do something to turn the skirmish in his group’s favor.

Boar tentatively stepped forward. He was still quite injured, and running low on ammunition from their previous battles. “Cyanwrath!” He called out in a booming voice, contrary to his battered state. “I accept your terms, if you will accept mine.”

The haughty, blue scaled half dragon scoffed, egging on his dragonesque group of kobold warriors before answering. “And, that is?”

Boar dramatically threw down his hand gun- the Boar Nose Special, letting it hit the earth with a metallic thunking sound. “No weapons… Only ourselves.”

“Done!” Cyanwrath called before impaling his trusted javelin deeply into the soil beside him. Stepping further into the circle, closing the distance between himself and the equally tall badger-man. “Let’s begin.”

Boar stepped closer, perhaps twenty feet away at most before charging in to swing at Lenathon’s half-breed child. His first clawed hand missed wildly, not even grazing the armor of his opponent. When he swung the other, it found purchase on the splint armor of the half dragon, not even managing to do any real damage.

Then, the half dragon smiled grimly- the type of smile that you expect to see from a murderer before his next kill. Quickly, the smile became a grimace in which even the audience could see sparks beginning to form within the jaws of Langdedrosa. Boar barely had a moment to process what was happening before he was hit with the shocking force of the dragon’s lightning attack. So stunned was he by the electric charge that he couldn’t block the following two punches from the beastly half dragon, finally succumbing to his previous wounds and falling unconscious at the feet of their enemy.

Xanth growled under his breath before grabbing Greennest’s healer by the arm and practically throwing her towards Boar’s comatose body. “Fix him. Now.” He barked, shaking his head in disdain. Xanth couldn’t believe how weak the huge gunslinger could be to go down after but two simple swings, but he could not allow the brute to die so soon. He needed him or the Sky Elf would likely try to leave the followers of Myrkul for better, more suitable, companions. The healer obeyed his command, but Xanth couldn’t tell if it was out of gratitude or fear. He would not allow for it to be gratitude- Xanth was not a hero and would never be. If this city were to name him as such, he would burn it to the ground without even the thought of remorse. Xanth was but a simple man, and you wouldn’t like him if you called him hero.

Soon, Langdedrosa’s contingent of kobolds had crested the hill to leave the valley in which Greennest resided, leaving nothing but the smoldering remains of buildings and the stink of death in the air to remind the residents of their presence. Their group rested and made plans with the help of the surviving mayor of the town to follow the unit of Dragon cultists towards their destination.

* * *

 

Xanth’s belly growled hollowly as the ragtag group of adventurers marched quickly onwards, tracking their quarry all the way. It had been some time since he’d consumed raw flesh, and, although he could persist off nothing but regular rations, he would grow weaker the longer he went without his desired craving. He rolled his eyes. Of course, Myrkul would curse his body so. He probably thought it was a funny joke- more like an insult and affront to Xanth’s sensibilities. Xanth didn’t care to eat somebody’s body after death, but to watch the life leave their eyes before he breathed new life into them himself through dark and accursed powers long forgotten in the Realms.

Before long, Xanth’s group happened upon the remains of a cultist group, resting in the woods. The human cultists seemed at best, indifferent to the kobolds, and, at worst, abusive- like they were less than themselves, which bothered many members of tracking party. However, before they could really think on it further, Xanth’s group put a plan of attack into action. As if the massive amount of trampled grass and the campfire weren’t indicators of their presence, the cultists were surprised by the trackers’ sudden attack. Although the adventurers were weary, they handily defeated the equally fatigued group of haggard cultists, stealing away a few sets of the newly dispatched fighter’s robes in order to blend in for future use. Xanth, however, was still wearing the purple robes that he’d swindled from one of the more elite cultists earlier on the first day of the siege of Greennest, so he passed on the chance to doff the lowly black robes of a new initiate. Surely, his purple clothing would bear more fruits given time.

After the battle, Xanth looked to the Reaper, finding that he was collecting the souls of the damned. He watched as each soul, some willing and others much more reluctant, was integrated into the Reaper’s body- the whitish essence being pulled from the mouth of the dearly departed and into the maw of Kalinthe. With each soul, Xanth could sense the Reaper grow stronger until it seemed to Xanth that the Reaper could gorge himself no more. This disgusted many members of their group, but it distracted them well enough for Xanth to remove a chunk of flesh from one of the better-looking bodies without notice.

“Let’s rest.” He spoke loudly enough to be heard by the group before stomping off into the forest to eat his meal.

Malek stretched his wings, looking around for a shaded tree to lay under. “Where does he even go?” He inquired lazily as he laid down on his side, a wing covering his sensitive silver eyes.

Boar looked over at the constantly sleeping part-celestial man. “I think he eats tree bark or something.” He answered without really thinking, still fiddling with the Boar Nose, and attempting to un-jam the thing. “Why don’t you get up and help us clean this mess? These bodies need to be lain to rest.”

Malek turned over just enough to crack open an eye in the direction of the bloodied ground. “No, thanks. I’ll not sully my hands any further today.”

Ellie lit a bonfire, and unceremoniously began throwing pieces of the cultist’s bodies into the flames. “What do you all think we’ll do after we checkout this encampment for the mayor? We were heading North before this whole mess began.”

“I still need to visit the Northern House of Aurai.” Nebula answered hollowly, withholding any real information on the matter. “I don’t really care if you all follow or not, honestly. I just have to do it.”

Ramasha looked up from scribbling in her book. “I’d like to try and meet my celestial ancestor. Maybe learn why Malek has wings and I do not.”

Malek’s wing feathers ruffled at the statement as he rolled over from his half-slumber. “I’ve told you already.” He deadpanned. “Your lineage is just more watered down than mine is. Not all of us are so lucky to have functional wings… Or wings at all, for that matter.”

Zephyr glanced to Ellie, who was gazing into the flames she’d created. She looked like she might speak up about a desire she had contrary to the others, and that was not something he would allow. He stepped over the remains of their fight, and touched the girl’s arm. She didn’t even attempt to resist like she once did. Instead, she turned to look into his eyes longingly. It was an innocent enough gesture that the others didn’t think much of it, but it served his purposes well enough; the girl remained under his spell for now.

When she turned away from him, she ignored the bodies that still needed tending to, instead beginning to dance as Zephyr preferred. Boar shook his head at Ellingsithurtal’s antics, used to her quirks by now, as he holstered the Boar Nose. “Look, I just need enough money from all of this adventuring to start up my blacksmith shop. Once I’ve got that, I’m out.”

Time went on much this way until Xanth returned with a much more relaxed countenance than before. He spoke not a word, but, instead, looked to Kalinthe and Nebula before once again leaving the clearing- this time to continue following the path beaten by the escaping group of cultists. The group silently followed swiftly thereafter; they didn’t want to lose the ground they had gained whilst following the retreating cultist’s tracks. That is, until they came to a mountain pass with two sheer cliffs on either side, creating a choke point of sorts that they would have to walk through in order to continue following the trail the larger army had created.

The group began to search the area, hoping to find any evidence of traps before an ambush was accidentally set off when Nebula used her newfound fury state ability to fly up to a suspicious looking part of the cliff to inspect things. The ensuing battle was tough, and even the formidable and fiery Ellingsithurtal was almost killed, falling unconscious before she could be healed at the end of the fight.

When the danger had passed, Ellie was fixed up as best as the exhausted group could manage, and, while searching the bodies of the cultist ambush leaders, Xanth himself found a map, leading the group to what was clearly a hidden encampment further into the mountainside.

The map detailed the locations of multiple tents, about 7 in total as well as 3 guard towers and a cave at the very back of the encampment. The group planned to go through, and stealthily split up into smaller groups in order to find the more important army members and pinpoint any hostages. They would meet back up in an hour after they’d had a chance to search under the cover of darkness. Of course, their newly acquired cultist clothing would be a boon to their newfound espionage mission.

* * *

Tears were streaming down Nebula’s face. Shame filled her to her very core as the hostages cowered away from even her- the one trying to rescue them. She was alone, and, being no good with trying to pick locks, she’d attempted to break it with a dagger. When her regular dagger didn’t work, she’d resorted to using her magics, casting ice knife in hopes that it would freeze the lock and break it with the dagger portion of the spell. However, it had shattered on her- the shrapnel embedding itself into two of the nearby hostages and killing them instantly given their lingering wounds from their earlier capture. She hadn’t meant to harm them. Typically, Nebula wouldn’t hurt a fly, but things had been changing recently. Nebula was changing, ever since the Talos incident.

Talos, she knew, was not a good, benevolent god. Otherwise, he wouldn’t work with Myrkul- Lord of Bones. Talos was considered one of the darkest and most destructive gods of the tempest- particularly specializing in destroying and drowning those aboard seafaring vessels, sometimes for his own amusement. Nebula wondered if it was even worth it to continue trying to fight against being one of the Aurai. Going against and fighting a deity’s will couldn’t be good for one’s health. Maybe, if she gave in, things would be better. Maybe, she could be Nebula again.

No, she would not. Being an Aurai meant nothing. Well, except for the few times she’d managed to use these new… powers. They intrigued her, spurring her into action when she would normally choose to passively watch; deep down, she knew that this was the dark and twisted influence of Talos, trying to mold her for his own means, but she had to admit… it felt good. She felt more powerful than ever before, and, although she knew better, she continued to use the abilities gifted to her.

Nebula shook her head, clearing it of the demons she currently faced. With one last mournful sniffle, Nebula stood back up, grabbing at the now-shattered lock and releasing the eight remaining hostages, instructing them on how to return to their home from here. Then, she moved on to the next tent, hoping beyond hope that there weren’t more hostages that would need to be unchained.


	6. Controlling Fate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Xanth has decided that the wildcard must go, while Nebula and Boar frolick in mushroom fields.

The group came back together after their allotted hour, and traded the myriad of information they’d gleaned from the reconnaissance mission. Some were still wearing sets of ill-gotten cultists robes, looking positively nefarious in the dark robes and masks of the dragon worshipping lunatics.

 

“Alright.” Kalinthe spoke up quickly after the last of the information had been disseminated, taking a leadership role not for the first time since their journey’s start. “The majority of the captives have been released, but there is still the old monk being held in the stockades. Good job finding that, Boar. Xanth, you found out the location of Mondath, that mage, and Cyanwrath. Now, who in the nine hells is this Rezin guy?”

 

“Rezmir.” The child warlock corrected with a shrug, obviously resorting to his strange vow of situational silence in the name of the Lord of Bones as a cover for his lack of useful knowledge.

 

“Fine.” Kalinthe growled under his breath at the obstinate man-child. “Malek, you say that there’s some sort of… further divide between the kobold cultists and the human ones?”

 

Malek’s heavy eyes blinked open from the shortest of cat naps, propped against a tree. “Oh… yes!” He hastily stood with a great, moaning yawn. “I overheard the human cultists excluding the kobolds from certain places within the camp. Even the tents are almost split down the middle. We might be able to exploit this divide somehow.”

 

“Hey, shouldn’t we head back to Greenest? As much as I’d like to help out their small town further, this encampment is hundreds of cultists strong, and we’re only 9 people. Our job given by the mayor was to scout out how many of them there were and where they were going. Things like that. Perhaps, it would be wise to regroup with them and seek reinforcements.” Boar interjected, eyes alight with a spark of greed as he mentioned the mayor of Greenest who’d offered a reward for more information on the cult who’d single handedly destroyed the town’s livelihood.

 

“We can’t just leave!” Nebula nearly shouted, voice full of weakness and emotion, but her face was set into an expression of bravery and determination. Xanth rolled his eyes. This woman was weak, mind clouded with feelings of guilt and loyalty. Those bindings did not make someone strong, nor would they lead one to immortality, like the glorious lich he once was. Yes, once he was strong enough in the arcane arts, and his pockets full of coin he would perform that fateful ritual again. “The prisoners I freed will take care of informing Greenest. We should strike under the guise of darkness before the encampment clears out.”

 

The small warlock looked at the Sky Elf with a newfound admiration. Out of the corner, he saw that Kalinthe was glaring between the two of them, but making no move to stop whatever might transpire from here. Finally, the reaper looked at their strange group. “Well, there’s your two options. How about we put it to a vote?”

* * *

Leosen Urlenthar was, decidedly, an enigma. The group had just freed the old and experienced monk, instructing him to run towards freedom and out of the mountainous bivouac. However, the wisened monk humbly refused, admitting that he had originally invaded the cultist organization in order to learn more for his own faction; for this, the greater good, he would gladly lay down his life. Shortly after his impassioned speech, Nebula took the man aside, removing a covering from her leather armor, and flashing some sort of insignia before instructing the disheveled monk to leave the mountains and await their return in the forests beyond, safely hidden from the prying eyes of the cultist’s patrols.

 

Xanth decided that he would most definitely need to look into the human monk’s alliances, especially if the Nescerei shared some sort of affiliation with him. Otherwise, how could the warlock and soul reaper be expected to turn her down the darker path that had been chosen for her? But, something hung darker and heavier over his mind than the path his Lord had sent him on.

 

The Aasimar, Malek. Xanth could tell that the angel-kin was on to his secret. He could not let that happen. Of course, Kalinthe and Nebula knew, and the former lich was also fairly certain that if Zephyr didn’t know, then he had suspicions. However, the more of the group that knew that he had to eat human flesh for survival, the more dangerous things would become. Aasimar would most especially not appreciate his dietary needs, although Xanth was not at all concerned about the strangely broken mind of Ramasha… almost certain that, even if she knew of his transgressions against humanity, she wouldn’t act against him. But, Malek, he was a wildcard. Xanth couldn’t afford a wild card. Not any more.

 

The party made swift work of the two pissant guards outside of the cave, inside of which was hidden Cyanwrath’s elite guard, but, upon entering, it quickly became obvious that their choice was either to split the group or to room-by-room traverse the winding caverns within. But, first, which way to go? To the right, there was a short hall. It seemed- tidy. Probably because it was,and there were likely to be guards that way as well. But, if they went the other way? Well, there was no saying. The group had never done a dungeon crawl together before. Of course, they knew that danger lurked behind every corner, but how bad could it really be if the cultists had taken up residence in such a cave?

 

So, the group quietly decided that they would head left, into the depths of the mountain, hopefully quietly enough to keep any guards from hearing their hasty retreat. Maybe, they’d learn some interesting information. Something they could use against the cult in their travel. Or, perhaps, they could find some items to strengthen the team. The cavern grew dark before it grew light again. The various fauna of this cavern had adapted to its moist and cloying darkness by becoming bioluminescent, giving off the faintest bluish-purple glow of light as they walked deeper into the cave. After the group had deemed that they were far enough away from any signs of humanoid life, those that decided they needed such a thing, lit torches. The now-illuminated subterrane was a covered in colorful purple lichen, but the group didn’t have time to observe for long.

 

While they were inspecting their surroundings, nobody had bothered to look at the ceiling. For, lurking above were not loosely hanging stalactites or even nocturnal bats, but stirges. And they were hungry. The first of the carnal beasts fell from the sky like a spear straight into the soft space near Ramasha’s jugular. Her scream echoed, and all hell broke out amongst the group. Kalinthe and Boar also had the bat-like creatures latch on, struggling to pull them off and fight off the onslaught of a swarm of others. Boar, in particular, had the hardest time. If he even attempted to use his gun against the stirge attached to his body, he risked shooting himself as well. Now, Boar wasn’t the wisest being in the world, but he wasn’t an idiot either. He took no shots, instead electing to bludgeon the beast to death with the stock.

 

When the tumult had passed, the adventuring party already looked worse for the wear. Some of them had gaping wounds on their neck, blood spilled onto their leathers and clothing. Others, as usual, looked unflappable. Malek was among those few. As soon as the stirges had fallen from the sky, he’d purposely gone prone before springing up to attack with his scimitars like the world’s most dangerous spinning top. Xanth resented this as he nursed a few small wounds on his arms, perhaps he could find a way for an accident to befall the angelic one here. Yes. This, he could make happen.

 

Torches were picked up after the skirmish, and the group walked on towards a small drop in the terrain. On one side, the found a twenty foot drop. A perilous jump to say the least, but, on the other side, was a suspicious looking set of stairs. Nebula looked between the two, indecisiveness filling her as she held her torch up high to get a better look at the distant violet fungus bulbs growing in the loamy soil.

 

“Fuck it.” Boar said with a shrug, his furry hackles raising in his excitement at his own joke.. “You’re going down. I’m yelling timber!” He sung as he walked up behind the precariously perched Nebula and pushed her down the stairs. The badger-man began to walk down the stairs, however, before Boar himself could react, he too was falling down a slide as the stairs collapsed into themselves.

 

“You fury fuck! What the-! Ouch!” Nebula shouted, while scrambling to stand up before the much larger badgerlord landed on top of her. She turned to see the thing that had stung her. A purple tendril from one of the violet fungus plants, but they weren’t just staying still. No, they were growing closer. Another one stung her, and another until all went dark.

* * *

Xanth and Kalinthe weren’t unfamiliar with death. However, they were unused to death being out of their control. Between their powers combined, they could easily send any being they put their minds to into the underworld to be welcomed with open arms into the nine hells. However, neither of the two knew how to reverse that process. Once a creature was unconscious, it was up to their own constitution or the more divine magics to bring them back from the brink.

 

Eventually, Ellie healed Boar, and the man stood up, grabbing Nebula’s limp body over his shoulder and running for sanctuary. After stabilizing the Sky Elf, the group thought it best to rest for a short while. They found a safe looking flat spot between some rocks next to a pit full of guard drakes, some sitting and others laying down for a short rest.

 

However, their rest didn’t last long. Kalinthe was on guard when he noticed some of his rations missing only to turn around and find that the tendrils of a roper were sneaking their way into most of the group’s packs. The monstrosity had eaten well from the food that their hard earned money had bought them, but, now, it was time to leave, before the thing decided that the dried foods had only whet its appetite. With a collective sigh, the group moved on.

 

Xanth was tired, wounded, and hungry. Any of those things affecting the warlock were bad on their own were quite the recipe for disaster, but all three at once? The boy was murderous. Kalinthe kept giving him suspicious sidelong glances, but he never actually said anything to assuage the diminutive warlock’s current warpath. Yes, Malek would die tonight. He could see it now in his mind’s eye. He’d make it look like an accident. Nobody would be the wiser. The perfect crime.


End file.
